


New Aesthetic

by carolinecrane



Series: Aftermath [36]
Category: The Brotherhood 2: Young Warlocks (2001)
Genre: M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-05
Updated: 2011-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:09:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Futurefic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Aesthetic

The thing Harlan hates the most about business trips is not falling asleep next to Marcus. He knows Marcus stays up half the night coding when he's not there; Marcus needs someone to take care of him, to make sure he eats and to drag him to bed at a decent hour.

Harlan really likes being that person.

The thing Harlan does like about business trips, though, is the text messages. He likes sitting in a meeting and feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket and knowing that it's Marcus. Likes the cheesy messages Marcus sends – usually something like "what r u wearing?" – because it means Marcus is thinking about him. Means Marcus is missing him, coming up for air long enough to realize how long he's been rattling around their place alone, and wondering when Harlan's coming home already.

He never answers Marcus right away. Instead he smiles and slides his cell phone back into his pocket, turns on the charm long enough to find a way to speed up the meeting as quickly as possible and get the hell out of there. He doesn't call Marcus until he's alone, in whatever nondescript hotel room he's staying in, where he's sure he won't be interrupted.

Then he dials the number and waits, listening while the line connects and Marcus answers. He sounds distracted, as usual, and Harlan doesn't have to work hard to picture him sitting at his computer, dark circles under his eyes from staring at the screen all day and empty coffee cups littering the desk around him.

"I'm wearing my Armani. The gray one you like because you like the way it feels against your skin. And the green tie we used the last time you let me tie you up."

"I thought we trashed that one."

"That was the red one," Harlan answers, grinning into the phone and now he's picturing Marcus naked, arms stretched over his head and his hands tied above him, so he reaches down to unfasten his pants. "I wear this one when I'm out of town because it reminds me of how pretty you are when you beg me to fuck you."

"I don't beg."

"Yeah you do," Harlan says as he sinks onto the edge of the freshly made hotel bed and splays his legs wide. He slides a hand inside his pants and squeezes his cock, sucking in a breath at the pressure. "Just you wait 'til I get home. I'm going to make you beg me to fuck you, then I'll make you beg me to stop."

"Promises, promises," Marcus answers, laughter in his voice but there's an edge there too, and Harlan can tell he's picturing it. He knows Marcus is probably wearing jeans and a t-shirt – he's pretty sure that's all Marcus owned before he moved in and Harlan started dressing him – and no shoes, bare feet planted wide apart on the floor in the office. He's halfway to hard, if the catch in his breath is anything to go by, but Harlan's pretty sure he hasn't touched himself yet. He seems to like to wait until Harlan tells him what to do, and that's the hottest part of this little game they play.

"That's a guarantee, Marcus. First I'm going to take off the tie I'm wearing right now, then I'm going to tie those pretty wrists of yours over your head so we can take our time. Then I'm going to suck you until you're begging me to let you come."

"When are you coming home again?" The words come out breathy, catching in Marcus' throat and making Harlan wish he was home already. He wishes he didn't have another entire day of meetings to sit through, boring negotiations that gave him something to do back when Marcus was still part of his past, but now they're just an inconvenience.

"Tomorrow," he answers, hand still stroking his cock slowly as he listens to Marcus breathe. "Unzip your jeans."

"What time tomorrow?"

"Why, you miss me?" Harlan asks, because he already knows the answer, but he never gets tired of hearing the words.

"You know I do. I had to make my own coffee this morning."

"Bastard," Harlan says, but his laugh takes all the sting out of the word. "It's a miracle you survived without me all those years."

"Yeah, it is," Marcus answers, voice shifting to something more serious and Harlan really doesn't want to get into this now. As far as he's concerned there's no reason to talk about it at all, because Marcus is back where he belongs now and that's all Harlan cares about.

But Marcus always gets a little needy when he's been out of town for awhile, and that's just another reason Harlan needs to cut back on his business trips. Because he likes that Marcus needs him, but he'd rather be home to take care of those needs up close and personal. Still, this is better than nothing, and it's not like he has anywhere else to be for the rest of the night.

"How about next month we take a few days, go away together. You can spend the time thanking me for all the nice things I do for you."

Marcus laughs at that, relaxing again and Harlan knows if he was there he'd be able to see the tension easing out of Marcus' body. He'd be able to feel it, muscles relaxing under his hands as he ran his fingers over Marcus' shoulders and down his chest.

"How about you just get your ass back here and I'll thank you as much as you want."

Harlan's cock twitches at the raw desire in Marcus' voice, and he's tempted to cancel the rest of his meetings and board the first plane home. Except there's no way he could explain that to his father, and if he loses this account because he couldn't keep his personal life out of his work then that just means his father was right about Marcus moving in with him. And he's not going to give his father the satisfaction; Marcus is a lot more than a distraction, no matter what his parents think.

"Take off your shirt," he says instead, stretching out on the hotel bed and working his button-down out of his pants. He works open the bottom few buttons with his free hand, fingers sliding across smooth skin as he pictures Marcus doing the same.

There's a shudder on the other end of the line, then a murmured 'fuck' and Harlan grins into the silence of his hotel room. "Okay?"

"Yeah," Marcus answers, sucking in another breath and Harlan pictures him running a hand across his bare chest. "It's cold in here."

"Guess we better warm you up, then," Harlan says, wishes again that he could be there to do the honors in person. He wants to drag Marcus to bed, stretch out on crisp cotton sheets and spend the rest of the night kissing every inch of Marcus' skin. He'd start with Marcus' mouth, then work his way down his neck and shoulders, across his chest and down his arms to suck on those fingers that spend so much time flying across a keyboard. "Take your dick out for me."

Marcus sighs on the other end of the line, and Harlan can tell he's just been waiting for permission to touch. Pictures those fingers moving up and down Marcus' cock, the way he's seen Marcus do more times than he can count. And he likes watching, but he doesn't mind listening either. Not when it's Marcus on the other end of the line, breath catching in his throat every time his thumb slides across the tip of his cock. Harlan's watched him do this in person enough times to know exactly what Marcus looks like right now, how fast he likes it and how he tortures himself by going just a little too slow, just to make it last.

"Know what I'm going to do when I get home?"

"The answer better be that you're going to fuck me."

Harlan laughs at the determination in Marcus' voice, pictures flushed skin and gritted teeth and knows that's exactly what he's going to do. "Until you beg me to stop," he reminds Marcus, "but I told you, Marcus, I'm going to take my time. First I'm going to suck those fingers of yours until they're good and wet, and then I'm going to let you show me how you fuck yourself when I'm not there to do it for you."

Marcus moans on the other end of the line and Harlan knows he's picturing it, probably wishing he wasn't still sitting in that desk chair he spends so much time in so he could kick off his jeans and act out what Harlan's describing. But Harlan doesn't mind if he waits, because he wants to be there to watch. He wants to kneel between Marcus' bent legs and stroke his cock while he finger fucks himself, wants to lean over and suck Marcus' dick into his mouth until Marcus is begging Harlan to fuck him.

Because he does beg; has since they were teenagers, and it's one thing Harlan's glad Marcus never grew out of. It's just as hot now as it was then – hotter, maybe – because it means Marcus still wants him enough to lose control. Wants him enough to get a little desperate, and there's no way that will ever get old.

Harlan's hand slides back inside his pants as he listens to Marcus breathing, gripping his cock to stroke in time to Marcus' pants until they're both right on the edge. "And once you get too close to coming, I'm going to tie you up and make you beg some more. I want to watch you straining against the tie I'm wearing right now, want to listen to you moan when I slide inside you and finally give you what you want."

He hears Marcus moan again, his voice breaking a little and he knows how close Marcus is to losing it. Wishes he could be there to watch that moment when Marcus reaches his limit, when he arches up off the chair and comes on his fingers and his chest. Instead he settles for listening, gripping his cock a little harder at the same time Marcus lets out another fractured moan and lets go. Pictures it as he listens to Marcus panting on the other end of the line, stroking his own cock a little faster until finally he comes too, wet heat on his own fingers and stomach.

Without thinking he lifts his hand to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean before he turns his attention back to Marcus. "I love listening to you come."

"I like it better when you're here to clean up the mess."

"Me too," Harlan answers, grinning at Marcus' weak laugh. He glances at the clock and realizes how late it's gotten, swallows a groan at the thought of early meetings and the amount of work he still has to do before he can go home. "Did you eat anything today?"

"Yes," Marcus says, and Harlan doesn't miss the familiar annoyance in his voice. "She may be worthless, but I already have a mother, you know."

"Just protecting my investment," he says, but they both know it's a lot more than that. Because Marcus really doesn't look out for himself when Harlan's not around, and that's all the more reason to be around as often as possible. "Besides, you're going to need your strength when I get home."

"You don't have to worry about me."

And he hears the smile in Marcus' voice, but they both know it's not as much a joke as Marcus wants him to believe. Because he does worry; he worries about Marcus taking care of himself, but he also worries that maybe one day he'll get home and Marcus just won't be there anymore. It's happened before, after all, and no matter how many times Marcus promises him that it could never happen again, there's no way he can guarantee it. A lot of things can happen that neither of them can control, and every second they're apart is just another second he has to think about what if.

"Just get some sleep, Marcus."

"Okay," Marcus answers. "I love you."

"I know," Harlan says, and he does, but he likes hearing it anyway. "I'll be home tomorrow night."

"I'll be here." Another promise, and this one Harlan's pretty sure he can believe.


End file.
